


Better than new

by Louhetar



Series: Jonmund Tumblr Prompts [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Art, Awkwardness, Body Worship, Bottom Tormund Giantsbane, Consent is Sexy, Embedded Images, Established Relationship, Fanart, Husbands, Idiots in Love, Jon Snow of The Free Folk, Kissing, Love, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Post-Episode: s08e06 The Iron Throne, Power Exchange, Some Fluff, Top Jon Snow, Tormund loves his lil wild husband, Tormund thorsts, Tumblr Prompt, Who Jon is to deny him? amirite, a bit rough, but not so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 08:23:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20579459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louhetar/pseuds/Louhetar
Summary: “Tormund. Look at me, please,” he murmurs softly against his lips. Chaotic blue eyes meet his and Jon’s soul aches. There is fear and uncertainty in them and he hates seeing it in his love’s face. “I heard you, Tor. Please tell me what you want; I want to be the one bringing you pleasure.”Jon finds Tormund pleasing himself with his names on his lips. But not in a way he'd expect.Art by me





	Better than new

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a Tumblr prompt  
"Hey girl hey. You requested prompts? I have one for you... Post S8, Jon travels north with the Free Folk. One day Jon is off doing something and wont be back until late. Tormund takes the opportunity for some himself in their tent. Jon returns early and doesn’t realize why Tormund is saying his name until he steps inside the tent to find Tormund pleasuring himself with Jon’s name on his lips."
> 
> Title from Judas Priest's Love You to Death
> 
> Art by me
> 
> Beta by Klair716

Jon breathes the sharp, cold air in slowly, enjoying the smell of the wild. A small deer is slung over his shoulder and he hums to himself, satisfied with the kill. He’d been set on hunting duty for the whole day, but soon found fresh prints in the snow and couldn’t believe his luck when he managed to shoot a deer only a mile from the camp. Animals must still be quite unaware of the presence of the clan if they came this close. But he really can’t complain about situations like this. He gathers his long locks in a ponytail and whistles to get Ghost’s attention. After a few moments, his friend trots as quietly as always to him, his snout covered in fresh blood. Jon stops to pet him gently and saddens at the sight of the missing ear. “Come on, buddy, let’s go,” he says softly, not wanting to be loud in the forest.

He starts walking back to the camp and smiles fondly when the direwolf runs after some rabbit. He lets him, knowing that Ghost always comes back.

He’s back quite early, Jon realises, when he sees the edge of the forest and the first tents further up, close to the river. Jon looks around, smiling at the comfortable quiet among the normally busy people. Yesterday one of the spearwives gave birth to a child, a situation, he learned, that called for the whole clan to celebrate. People lost so many family members, friends, and lovers to the White Walkers that every new life brings joy and calls for a celebration. And last night was one such occasion. So now, in the late morning, the clan members start to slowly leave their tents, many of them heavily hungover by the looks of it. He leaves the deer he brought by the fire, happy to finally lose its weight from his shoulder.

Jon looks around the camp, but there’s no sign of his husband. Weird, he thinks, they didn’t drink so much during the night, too busy focusing on… something else. He flushes and starts walking in the direction of their tent. He approaches softly, quietly, not wanting to wake Tormund up in case he’s sleeping. When he’s about to enter, hand on the flap barring the entrance, he hears the soft moans coming from the inside. He blushes, knowing exactly what his husband is doing, despite never seeing him in the act. He can feel his cock twitch at the thought of Tormund pleasing himself. Then he hears his name gasped softly and a slow, thick heat enters his gut. He’s about to enter and offer to suck the ginger man when one word, moaned so softly he almost misses it, stops him in his tracks.

“Harder.”

He freezes, absolutely freezes, and his thoughts race hundreds of miles per hour. He needs to bite his hand to stop himself from making sound.

He never thought that Tormund would like that; the man has never shown any interest in this side of the act. But on the other hand, they never ever discussed it. He thinks it’s about time they do.

He opens the flap of their tent softly, as to not startle the older man and once again he stops, not being able to move.

Tormund is naked and on his side, his heavily muscled body covered in a thin sheen of sweat. One of his hands on his massive, hard cock, pumping it softly, lazily, and his other hand is tracing his entrance gently, dipping in a finger or two every so often. His eyes are closed and he’s moaning quietly, occasionally calling Jon’s name. He’s so gone in his own pleasure he doesn’t notice the younger man’s presence at all, Jon realises, knowing how very aware of his surroundings the warrior usually is. He’s so gorgeous like this, so free and unbidden. Jon would do anything for the man, he muses, smiling softly.

He approaches the redhead, treading quietly as if he was on the hunt again. He can’t help his smile from turning a bit mischievous. He leans carefully over Tormund and covers his panting mouth with his own and his hand joins the other man’s on his length.

Tormund jerks violently, so completely startled he tries to shove Jon off, but the firm hand squeezing tightly on his cock stills him.

“Jon? This isn’t wha-“

“Hush, love,” he interrupts him, kissing Tormund deeply but gently, slowly, and after a minute Tormund relaxes a bit, his hand gripping Jon’s furs gently, pressing him to his bare, hairy chest. Jon pumps Tormund’s cock lightly, having replaced his husband’s palm with his own.

“Tormund. Look at me, please,” he murmurs softly against his lips. Chaotic blue eyes meet his and Jon’s soul aches. There is fear and uncertainty in them and he hates seeing it in his love’s face. “I heard you, Tor. Please tell me what you want; I want to be the one bringing you pleasure.”

The big man almost sobs at his words. Jon thinks then, maybe he’d taken the wrong approach towards the flustered giant.

Suddenly, he sits up and puts himself on top of Tormund’s thighs and the man looks at him, startled by the abrupt movement.

“You don’t think I’m too small, do you?” he teases, pretend hurt in his voice.

This finally gives him a positive reaction when Tormund chuckles, relaxing his muscles and laying back.

“No, my Little Crow. Definitely not,” he finally says and chuckles. Jon smiles, he can’t help but feel content at his words.

“For how long have you craved this?” he asks then, his voice more steady, less soft.

“Months? Maybe years? But I’ve always been happy to satisfy you, Jon.”

Jon considers Tormund’s words and then catches the ginger’s wrist in his hand and presses it to his own crotch, having the man below him feel his hardness through his breeches. Tormund’s breath hitches. Jon leans over again, his hot breath against the older man’s ear.

“Believe me, I want you,.” he says huskily and rolls his hardness against the redhead’s, making his husband groan.

“Fuck.”

“Yes, exactly,” he says lowly, realising he knows the way to get to Tormund. The man doesn’t want him soft and delicate today. “Is this what you want Tormund? Do you want my cock inside you?” he asks and his nostrils flare. He’s suddenly much too hot in his furs and leathers.

“Aye.” Tormund’s eyes are dark, wanting. Hungry for something Jon’s never given him before. Looking like this, Jon is ready to offer him anything, do anything and everything for him.

He sits back a bit and slowly starts to remove layers of furs. “I heard you outside, moaning for me, hungry, wanting,'' he murmurs, his voice low. “But the sight of you? Pleasing yourself, begging for me to be doing things to you? Got me so hard for you, my love,” he says, observing Tormund’s face and the reaction he knows he’ll get. He’s not disappointed when Tormund growls and yanks him down by the back of his neck, their mouths clashing in a bruising kiss. Jon lets himself melt into the feeling, his hands working on removing the last of his layers, leaving him hard and leaking in his breeches.

They part for breath and Jon’s fingers wrap around the throbbing length lightly, barely there. Tormund’s hips buck and Jon smirks. Gods he loves holding Tormund’s cock; the man’s so very responsive to his touches.

“Look how hard you are, leaking at the very idea of me fucking you,” he breathes into Tormund’s ear and runs his tongue along the lobe before biting down. “Who would have thought you’d like me to...” he murmurs softly, kissing and nipping at Tormund’s neck, leaving hot, wet paths down his chest.

“Stop teasing and fuck me, Jon,” the man growls, his hands migrating from Jon’s neck to his hips, kneading and bruising the soft flesh there.

Jon knows his husband, he knows how he gets hard and hungry whenever Jon lets go of his inhibitions, when he lets himself be wild and free, just like the people he’s a part of now.

“So needy,” Jon growls and captures Tormund’s nipple in his mouth, drawing a gasping moan from the bigger man. “We’re doing it my way,” he reminds the redhead and bites down.

Tormund lets out a low shout and the cock in Jon’s hand twitches when the pain he caused shoots there. He smiles darkly.

“I know you, Tor,” he breaths hotly and latches to the other nipple. His hand grips the base of Tormund’s cock tightly and the ginger whines and grabs Jon’s hair, not pulling, nor yanking away, just grounding himself. Jon hums at it, content. He lets Tormund do it; he wants the man pleased and he knows how much he loves touching him. “I know you love me wild. You get hard of the very idea of it, don’t you?”

“That’s why you’re here with me, and not in the South with the stuck up lords,” he breathes in between soft gasps.

“Aye.”

His hand leaves the leaking length and Jon stands up abruptly, his hands going to the lacing of his deer hide breeches. A pair of big hands stills his and he shoots the man a questioning look.

“Let me.”

“Alright,” he breathes out, gasping slightly at the feeling of Tormund’s hand palming him through the fabric.

Swift fingers unlace him, and soon his trousers hit the furs, his hard cock in a sure grasp of calloused fingers. He tries to stifle his moan, but he fails once he catches a glint in those dark blue eyes and his length gets enveloped by warm, wet lips.

“Fuck, you’re so good. So good to me.” He can’t help the moan that escapes his lips when he opens his eyes and sees Tormund kneeling in front of him, his head bobbing on his cock, taking him deep into his mouth. It’s a sight that never fails to make him feel desire growing inside of his gut, blazing there. To have someone who would never bend a knee to any ruler fall on his knees for him voluntarily… It makes his blood boil and he truly feels wild now, being worshipped like this.

“You’re fucking gorgeous like this, _fuck,_” he moans and can’t stop himself from thrusting his hips, making Tormund gasp and gag around him. He tries to pull out, not wanting to cause his husband discomfort, but Tormund’s hands grip his ass bruisingly to still him. Fuck. He can’t think; the warmth is too much. And to think he’s about to be surrounded by a completely different type of warmth soon… He can feel himself getting close, but he doesn’t mind. He lets Tormund worship his cock with his mouth and talented hands, knowing they don’t need to hurry. Not today. He has no doubts that with Tormund’s help he’ll get hard again soon. His husband is absolutely amazing at this, his tongue lapping around Jon’s head, and when he sucks on his length Jon can’t stop a long, rolling moan.

“I’m close, love,” he keens and Tormund grabs his ass harder, nails leaving crescent marks. The sharp pain mixed with his husband’s talent finally throws him over the edge and he pulls on ginger hair when the pleasure gets too much and he needs to ground himself. He’s not surprised when he’s yanked down and they lumber into the furs together, lips crushing in the frenzy, moaning when he can taste himself on Tormund’s tongue.

There are hands on him, tracing, scratching, kneading all over his back and ass, and he lets them, gasping into the hot, swollen lips. His own hands are still in the redhead’s hair, pulling and making the man arch his back at the painful sensation, visibly enjoying it. Jon knows that Tormund loves, _craves_, the sweet combination of pain and pleasures almost as much as he does.

“Fuck, Jon you’re so, so hot when you come. The sounds you make…” Tormund gasps against him when they part of air finally. Their eyes meet and there must be a wild hunger in his because Tormund whines softly. “Come on, Wolf.”

_Fuck_

Jon feels fucking feral when Tormund calls him that. He bites down on his lips sharply, drawing blood along with a painful gasp and he smirks when can feel the hard cock against his belly leak at the sensation he caused.

Finally, he releases the swollen lip and moves down, determined to finally give Tormund what he’s been craving. He needs to be careful, only ever having fucked a woman before. But he’s not nervous, he’s seen and felt Tormund prepare him before, so he knows what to do.

He moves in between his husband’s thighs and can feel him shiver in anticipation.

“I must have been blind, not having noticed your hunger for my cock, love,” he murmurs against Tormund’s shivering thigh, leaving licks, kisses, and bites of all over the soft, hairy flesh. He inhales the heavy smell of wood and smoke that always lingers on the big man and traces his entrance, making Tormund’s breath hitch.

“Settle,” he says. “Don’t touch yourself.”

He forces his voice to be steady, not unlike when he was the Lord Commander, ordering the Crows. Crows… When did he start calling his former brothers that name? He muses to himself while dropping lower to give Tormund’s hole an experimental lick.

A whine unlike any he's ever heard from Tormund startles him and he looks up. But the expression on Tormund’s face shows such a pleasure that he feels like he’s going to choke on the heady sensation of being in the position of providing pleasure. He licks the soft flesh again, slipping inside of him, and the sound he draws from the older man only urges him on.

“Damn it, Jon, you’re really talented with that tongue of yours,” Tormund groans lowly, barely coherent. But Jon hears him and decides it’s about time to start stretching the man, noticing how he himself is already half hard just from working. The finger slicked with fat that has been tracing along the delicate muscles finally dips in carefully.

“I’ve already-“

“Bullshit,” Jon interrupts him sharply, slipping down to the second knuckle. Tormund looks at him questioningly and Jon let his lips stretch into a dark smirk. He sits up and palms his erection, giving himself a few strokes, biting his lip and arching his back slightly at how hard and aching he’s already become.

“I saw you stretch yourself earlier, my love,” he hisses, looking down at the ginger man. He sweeps his long, sweaty locks back from his face and continues. “You can’t possibly think that two fingers are enough?” His voice is low and husky and the answering groan makes him grin, all teeth. He slowly pushes in a second finger beside the first, pleased to notice that Tormund’s hands have stayed obediently by his sides. “You can touch me, you know,” he throws out, and instantly there are fingers massaging his scalp, making him sigh at the feeling.

Tormund is panting slightly at being stretched. He had indeed loosened himself a bit, but not quite enough.

He pumps his fingers harder, trying to find the spot that will make his husband lose it. Instead, Jon moans, aching when Tormund starts trusting back, trying to get his fingers deeper.

“You’re so fucking needy, aren’t you?” his voice gravely and low, panting heavily. He continues to search, and when he curls them back he knows he got it by the needy shout that punches out of the bigger man. Jon can feel himself grinning a toothy smile.

“Got you, love.”

He adds a third finger and rams them against the spot, making Tormund pull on Jon’s long hair sharply and the feeling shoots straight to his cock. If his husband keeps on doing that, he may not last at all. “Look at you, The Giantsbane, hungry for some southern cock,” he taunts.

“No, not southern.”

The wild inside Jon growls and he yanks his wet fingers out, making the man groan at the loss.

Jon then moves to hover over Tormund’s broad chest and slicks himself, panting at the contact for a moment.

“Are you sure?”

The answering look of absolute disbelief on Tormund’s face makes him chuckle.

“Was my initial ‘fuck me’ not enough, Little Crow?” he responds, impatient.

“Right,” he smiles, before he lines himself up with the ginger’s entrance and slowly sinks in.

The feeling is unlike any he’s ever experienced. Tormund’s so hot and tight, fuck. He forces his eyes open to watch the man below him and is met with an expression of such rapture that he clashes their mouths together while giving an experimental thrust. They moan through the kiss, the feeling amazing for the both of them.

“Fuck your cock feels so good, Jon.”

Tormund’s nails drag angry red lines on Jon’s back and something inside him breaks. He straightens himself and grabs the older man’s legs, urging him to wrap them around his waist before slamming into Tormund and moaning at the tightness surrounding him.

He soon finds a tempo good for him and balances his weight onto one arm, the other wrapping around the painfully hard-looking cock in front of him.

The man's response is instant when he bucks into his hand, unsure which feeling to chase. Jon smiles at that and starts jerking his husband to the rhythm of his thrusts, observing with satisfaction how Tormund falls apart. His face is flushed and sweaty, eyes shut, and his pants, groans, and growls please Jon immensely. Then he changes the angle and chuckles when he finds Tormund’s spot again.

“Harder.”

Jon’s eyes shoot open, not having noticed he had them closed, and he can feel fire spread through his veins, inflicted with just this one, gasped word. He rolls his hips into the man harder and harder, till he’s all but slamming into him. His own uncontrolled moans roll from his tongue.

Tormund's increasingly throbbing cock in his hand makes him realise that the wildling is so close. He lets go of his manhood to wrap his hand around the man’s thick wrists before pounding into him with all his might, milking Tormund’s prostate with every thrust. His own sweaty, long hair has fallen into his face, almost obscuring his vision, but he’s too lost in the heat of the fucking to care, growling and panting like an animal. He’s close, so close, but he wants to see Tormund fall apart with just the cock the man’s been craving all day. He must look absolutely wild now because Tormund growls when he opens his eyes to look at him.

“Fuck, Jon. You’re so beautiful like this,” he gasps, and the shorter man smirks at him, having read his husband correctly. Sweat is rolling down his face and chest, but he doesn’t stop. He can feel his own orgasm almost ready to take him, blurring his sight as he tries to stop himself from coming.

“Jon, I-”

“Come on, Tor, let yourself go. Come on, love,” he groans, and Tormund arches his whole body up until suddenly there is a splash of hot seed. A powerful groan rolls from deep inside of Tormund’s chest then and his body spasms. Jon doesn’t stop thrusting, fucking the man through his orgasm, and chasing his own. He’s fully focused on coming, not paying attention to the panting man below him, until there is a pair of big, sweaty hands framing his face. 

There’s so much adoration in that flushed and tired face that Jon gasps and his orgasm hits him so suddenly and powerfully. With a rolling moan, he blanks out for a moment.

Thumbs caressing his cheeks is the first thing Jon notices when he comes down from the high. He’s still panting, but when he opens his eyes he’s greeted by Tormund’s softly smiling face.

“You’re so amazing, my Little Crow. My Wild Thing.” The look on Tormund’s face is so earnest it almost makes him sob. He pulls out his spent cock carefully, groaning at the sight of his cum dripping down. He wants to get up to clean them, but solid arms stop him, and there are soft, calloused lips on his own kissing him softly, chastely.

“No,” he starts, panting. “You’re amazing. Nothing but you makes me feel as free, makes me feel like… _myself_.” He finally gets up and proceeds to clean them with a wet cloth, shuddering at the sudden coldness but welcoming it all the same.

“Thank you for letting me experience this,” he murmurs when he lays himself next to his husband. He closes his eyes for a few moments, knowing that they still have responsibilities and duties that need answering, but he wants to give them a few more moments of peace.

When he lies like this, surrounded by the warmth of the man that has his heart, he can’t help but thank the Gods for letting him, them, have each other. For letting them be here, together, he thinks, before the warmth makes him drift into a light, peaceful sleep.


End file.
